


Lady of the Ring

by LadyAmalthea



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Female Frodo, Loss of Parent(s), Minor Violence, Recreational Drug Use, Smoking, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 22:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14778278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAmalthea/pseuds/LadyAmalthea
Summary: From being adopted by her uncle, to her own grand adventure, Freida Baggins must set out upon a quest that will change her life, and all of Middle Earth. Several other AU elements incorporated. In-progress.





	1. An Invitation

            She wandered the rooms of Brandy Hall one last time, tracing her fingers along the intricately carved walls and doors. She checked each room to say farewell, but couldn’t seem to find her cousins, Peregrin and Meriadoc. She shook her head, and decided she would just have to write to them upon arriving at Bag End.

Defeated, she returned to the room she shared with three other girls, Pippin’s sisters Pearl, Pimpernel, and Pervinca.  They were younger, so she would watch over them from time to time when she wasn’t keeping lookout while the boys would make trouble.  Her bag sat on her bed, packed with her clothes, some books and maps, her embroidery, and the few things she had of her parents, Drogo and Primula. She sat next to her travel bag, staring out the window, gazing at the countryside along the Brandywine River. The summer sun made the emerald-color grass look so warm and inviting, perfect for lying in and looking up at the clouds.

One of the girls, Pearl, came running in, exclaiming, “He’s here, he’s here! Mr. Bilbo is here! Oh, cousin Frelly come quick,” before she rushed away. Taking a sigh, Freida picked up her bag and sun hat. She hadn’t seen her Uncle Bilbo in many years, when he came for a Yule party at Brandy Hall. She smiled, recalling the wonderful stories he told, of brilliant adventures and of the lands to the East of the Shire. They had exchanged dozens of letters through the years, talking about everything from family, to poetry, to tomfoolery. This past Yule, she received a much different letter, as well as a gift.  
\-------

_Several months before…._

The morning of Yule was like the last few, a large Hobbit breakfast and then playing in the snow with her cousins. They sang songs and chased each other through the forest, which otherwise felt barren and quiet in the winter. They made their way, by shortcut, to the marketplace. While Merry and Pippin skipped happily into the bakery to pick up the requested rolls and sweets from the family, she made her way next door to the post office. A familiar face, Ansel Hardbody, who would present her with her letters each week, greeted her warmly.

“Good afternoon, young miss, there’s a package waiting for ye, I’ll get it from the back.” The older hobbit said before disappearing to the back room.

Freida curtsied, and took in the beloved smell of parchment paper, wax, and twine, which smelled even more divine mixed with the fresh pine of the wreath that hung above the fire.

“Here we go, your parcel from Mr. Bilbo Baggins. Anything to send out today, miss?” She smiled, and shook her head.

“No sir, a very merry Yule to you and the missus.” She waved as she sprinted out the door to track down her devilish companions. Thankfully they were right where she expected, counting coins on the counter of the bakery.

“Are they giving you any trouble, Mrs. Bracegirdle?” Freida asked.

“Surprisingly no, but they do seem to be short on funds.” The larger hobbit-woman chuckled.

“C’mon Frilly, do ya have a little extra to spare? We just expanded the shopping list a little….” Merry pleaded. Pippin nodded, picking the lint out of his pile of coins.

“Yes, yes, all right, but the two of you owe me a set of parchment sheets if I don’t have enough by the end of this.” Freida set down her package to open up her coin purse, “What’s the balance?”

 “Two silver pennies.” She said, marking down the tallies of each item in their baskets.

“Are you serious? What could you both have possibly gotten beyond what Aunt Esmeralda asked for?”

“Well, we figured that if it snows sometime in the next week or so, we should have enough just in case we can’t reach the market by New Years’ Eve!”

Freida shook her head, handing over the two owed silver pennies, which was half of what she had saved. “I trust the two of you can carry all this back?”

“You bet we can!” Pippin shrieked, picking up one of the baskets as Merry followed close behind. “Merry Yule, madame!”

The baker chuckled, setting her quill down in the inkwell before wiping her hands with a rag. “They’ve nearly cleaned me out, though I can’t complain to be getting such good business. Don’t forget that box of yours, miss.”

“Oh!” Freida exclaimed, picking it up from the table. “Thank you, and a very merry Yule to you and your family!”

She stepped out of the bakery, a rush of icy wind hitting her face, as she made her way back to Brandy Hall. Freida couldn’t quite consider it home, for it hadn’t felt like home for many years since her parents had died. It had been nearly 9 years now, but her heart still ached. It wasn’t that she did not receive love from her other relations, but she knew they spoke poorly of her when they thought she wasn’t listening. That is part of why she so dearly loved the letters she received from her uncle, for he would talk about them at length when she asked.

She reached the edge of town, and had to decide whether to follow the road or go through the forest. Her cousins knew the way through the forest better than she did, but the main road followed the river. She took a deep breath, and hurried along the road. She could feel herself shaking, trying hard not to look at the river. After her parents died drowning in it, she could barely stomach to even glimpse at the rushing water. About halfway back, snow began to fall softly, so she tucked the package under her coat to ensure it would not get wet.

Upon arriving back to Brandy Hall, she could already hear her rambunctious cousins talking their mothers’ ears off in the kitchen. She slipped away into the library to find her Great Uncle Rorimac fast asleep with a book laying on his large belly. Freida carefully picked it up, placing a velvet bookmark where he left off, before putting a kettle on the fireplace for tea. She slipped away quietly to retrieve some cups and tea from the pantry, pondering what Uncle Bilbo had sent her. She picked out a jar of spiced wintertime tea, and two teacups with a sugar cube each. She balanced everything carefully back to the library, and noticed the kettle was hot enough. She pulled it out, and began to pour herself a cup. As if on cue, her uncle shifted as he awoke, so she poured his cup as well.

“Have you been enjoying your Yule, uncle?” Freida asked, placing his cup on the table beside him.

“Yes, yes, just enjoying the warm fire and reading some old tales. What about you, Frelly, did the boys expel enough energy going to Bracegirdle's?” he chortled, taking a sip of tea.

“I can only hope so, or they will try to stay up as late as all the adults and try to sneak a glass of cordial.” Freida warned as she took her seat and stirred her tea before taking a sip. She placed the cup down, and began to unwrap the parcel. There was a wooden box, as well as two envelopes, one addressed to her and one addressed to “ The Honorable Rorimac Brandybuck". “Mr. Bilbo Baggins has sent you a letter, uncle.” She handed him the wax-stamped parchment before opening her own.

_Dearest Freida,_

_I hope this letter finds you well and healthy, and I hope, in time for a beautiful Yule. I recommend reading this on Yule, additionally, at the same time as the coinciding letter for that lazy, delightful fool Rorimac._

_As you are aware, I live alone here at Bag End, as it seems that most hobbit-folk believe I have gone completely mad, or have committed some vile act to have acquired so much wealth. I write to you today with a request, an invitation if you will. You are, after all, a true Baggins, and I feel rather regretful that I have not come to this conclusion sooner. My dear child, I have grown quite lonely and useless. I feel I am without purpose most days, but in our letters I have found a joy I have not known in many years._

_Should you feel interested in the opportunity of coming to live with me (or the burden of dealing with me), I have decided to name you my heir. I have no requirements, no strings, but it would mean the whole of this Middle-Earth to me to have you with me until old age decides to take me._

_I am aware this is a great decision, and many may think differently of you either way you choose, but I will offer you all that I can; my years of knowledge and experience, my library of books, freedom to live your life as you like, and I hope, the opportunity to one day take a holiday beyond the borders of the Shire._

_Included with these letters, as I'm sure you saw, is a box that contains a gift for you. I hope you will enjoy it, and write me back when convenient with your answer to my query._

_Merry Yule_

_-BB_

Freida slid back in get chair a little, taking in the offer from her uncle. She glanced up to see Rorimac still reading, and took the moment to open the box. Inside was a folded parchment, and she gasped upon unfurling it completely. It was a beautifully drawn map of the known Middle-Earth, the Shire, Gondor, Mirkwood, Lorien… she smiled as she studied each detail. She looked up once more to see Rorimac remove his reading glasses and sip his tea.

“What did Bilbo write to you about?” She asked.

Her uncle looked at her, his face unchanging, “Gossip from Hobbiton, accounts of his recent eencountes with our cousin…” he sipped more tea, “…and of you. I assume in his letter he expressed his interest in having you join him at Bag End?”

Freida nodded, “Ay, he did.”

Her great uncle nodded, “And of course, you intend on going, am I correct?”

She took a deep breath, “I am grateful for all you have done for me since my parents passed away, but I must confess that I want to accept his invitation. I feel… stifled and trapped here, at times…” The air was tense; she waited a moment before speaking further. “I so dearly love my cousins, but you know as well as I do that I do not belong here.”

Her uncle finished his tea, before responding. “You have been an immeasurable help taking care of those rambunctious Took children, as well as my own grandchild Meriadoc. The women folk seem much happier not having them interrupt constantly. Although I know you don’t always get along with them…” he tried to pass it off casually, but even he knew that Freida was not particularly liked.

She was eager to be educated in more than household chores, she made trouble and drama when the adults scolded her, and she made it clear that she did not wish to be married off to some stranger when she came if age. “As your caretaker, I will warn you that cousin Bilbo is a wild, crazy man. Always talking of journeying with dwarves and dealing with dragons… if you feel so ostracized now it will not get better. However…” he got up and collected their cups to bring to the kitchen, “I feel that your parents would want you to go live with him and be free of the drama in this house. I will tell the others, but all I ask that you stay until the summer, give yourself time to be sure it’s what you want.”


	2. Starting Fresh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking her uncle's invitation, Freida leaves Brandy Hall for Hobbiton.

Freida remembered the rest of that evening fondly; she started writing her letter in reply before going to bed. The next few months seemed to drag on until her final week, which felt like a quick blur.

She started down the hallway, hearing everyone fighting for Bilbo's attention, as politely as possible, just outside the front door. The women offered him tea before setting back out on the road, and the children asking for stories. She stepped out the front door, and the chattering stopped.

“Frelly don’t leave!” Pippin started wailing before running up to her for a hug.

She knelt down and held him back, “It’s all right Pip, I will be back to visit. And I will write to you, and the family.” The little hobbit nodded, and she made her her way around to say farewell to everyone. Even with her being a few feet away, she could overhear her aunts whisper unkind things about her.

“Are you ready, my dear?” Bilbo asked, handing her a walking stick.

She nodded, “Very much, uncle.”

            They started down the road, waving to the others until they were no longer in sight, when there was a little stretch of road before reaching the village. Bilbo took one more look behind them before exclaiming “Thank goodness that’s all over, those stifling busybodies…” he muttered grumpily, wiping his brow with a pocket handkerchief.

            Freida chuckled, relieved to be in such similar company. “I can see why you did not wish to stay for tea, I haven’t seen them in such a fuss since the last time you came to visit.”

            Bilbo let out a _humph_ , “That was enough chaos to last one a decade… how you even live with them is beyond me.” He took a moment, and corrected himself. “Lived with…”

            Freida felt her eyes well up and sting a little. “Indeed, dear uncle.” They both walked silently for some time, enjoying the beauty of the Shire. Wildflowers were sprinkled along the forest’s edge, and the smell of greenery and crops on the gentle breeze.

            They passed through town and continued on their way down the road. Freida knew it would be a very long journey there, but it was already so late in the morning, it would likely take them until nightfall to reach Bag End. Along the road, they took to chatting about some books that Bilbo had lent to her. They reached the corner of the Great East Road, where they would turn West toward Hobbiton, when Bilbo stopped. His ears were perked up, and he smiled.

            “Uncle? What is it?”

            “A friend of mine will be bringing us the rest of the way, if you don’t mind.” He replied, leading them to an old log to rest on while they waited. “He’s a tad late, but we shan’t hold it against him.”

            Freida nodded, setting down her bag, and fanning herself with a small, pink paper fan she kept with her. “That is very kind of him…” she paused, contemplating who the new companion would be, since Bilbo had so few she imagined he would ask such a favor. The whinny of a horse came from down the road, and slowly the sound of the buggy-cart grew louder. However, she noticed this friend was rather large, as was the horse. Her uncle turned to her with a large smile on his face, nodded, and stood back up with such energy. How an older hobbit could be so active was rather unheard of…

            Freida picked up her bag, and following her uncle to the edge of the road.

            “Uncle… is this friend of yours… one of the big folk?” she asked, still peering down the road to make out the figure.

            “He is, indeed… a very remarkable one.” Bilbo took one more step toward the road, waving his arm out.

            The figure approached, and Freida could make out their physical details: a long grey beard and a pointed hat, with dark matching robes. Her mouth hung open in awe, as the carriage approached and stopped in front of them.

            “My dear Gandalf, one would not assume you could appear and disappear so quickly with your timeliness this afternoon.”

            “And you failed to mention of having a guest with you, in your letter, Mr. Baggins.” The elderly voice was warm but weathered, the young girl was taken aback and became reserved. She knew of the power of wizards, and had heard the tales of this particular wizard, and she felt shy by his immediate presence. The two gentlemen began to laugh heartily, and Gandalf tapped the wooden seats beside him for the two of them to sit beside him.

            Bilbo took Freida’s bag, lifting it into the back and helping her climb up onto the large cart. She sat right beside the wizard, who smelled primarily of pipeweed smoke and an ancient, woodsy smell. “Would you happen to be Bilbo’s niece whom he constantly speaks of? It’s very lovely to make your acquaintance.”

            “It-it-it’s lovely to make your acquaintance as well, Gandalf, sir.” Freida replied. She bowed a little, awkwardly.

            “Tell me, Freida Baggins, do you share the same stubborn nature that your uncle is so terribly afflicted with?” the wizard asked, giving the reins a gentle flick to urge the horse to move along.

The young hobbit smiled, her uncle smirked with a twinkle in his eyes. “I am, I confess. Along with the good Baggins name, I do possess such a virtue.”

The wizard let out a breathy laugh as he took out his long, oak pipe. A single touch with his thumb, and the leaves began to burn. Freida was awestruck for a moment to see such a simple act of magic, and yet it was so intriguing. The smell did not possess the same scent as the pipeweed she was used to, she wondered from which corner of the world he had gotten it.

The two gentlemen chatted, the wizard catching up Bilbo with news of people whose names she did not recognize. They all sounded very different, mostly Elven-sounding. She recognized a few names of places from the map she had been gifted: Rivendell, Misty Mountains, Gondor, Iron Hills. She had millions of questions burning inside her, but didn’t even know where to begin.

“The Dunedain rangers inform me that fewer hobbits seem to be coming to Bree as of late, have you any knowledge why?”

“Not a bit... I wonder why…” Bilbo replied.

After being silent for some time, Freida took her opportunity. “Who are the Dunedain? I have heard of rangers, but do they ever come to the Shire?”

“They are… well… Gandalf, you could explain better.” Her uncle said.

“Well, they are of man, but their kingdom was in the North, called Arnor. It has been lost for many centuries, but their descendants still protect the innocent peoples of Middle-Earth. They are very stealthy, and rarely let their presence be known… and yes, there are several who wander within the borders of the Shire. They are careful not to disturb hobbits, for not all folk are quite as accepting and kind.”

Freida nodded, “Indeed not…”

 ----

 

_“Freida! Has all decent Hobbit-sense left you?” Her aunt screeched._

_“Auntie Menegilda, I swear I mean no harm! It’s just for a bit of fun!”_

_“Bit of fun indeed! You look completely foolish!!” Freida stood deathly still and ashamed. She wore an old, worn out pair of men’s work trousers and tunic-shirt, with a belt holding a stick with a ribbon-tied crossguard made from a smaller twig._

_“Change back to your proper clothes, you disgraceful child! Just wait until I tell your Uncle Saradoc!”_

_“No, please don’t! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!” As if to prove herself further, she removed her stick from the belt and broke it in half across her right knee._

_Menegilda scoffed as she returned to attending to the flower gardens. “What a useless child….”_

 

 ----

 

They continued on down the road, making good time to reach Hobbiton by supper-time. Freida let her uncle and his friend continue their conversation as she gazed upon the new surroundings. Uncle Bilbo said that she had come to visit him once when her parents were still living, but she was too young to remember.

The cart crossed the bridge into town, a few hobbits staring, but Gandalf made a turn to avoid too much commotion as they climbed Bagshot Row. The horse slowed down as an older hobbit, his clothes smeared with dirt and grass.

“Welcome home, Mr. Baggins, sir! Would this happen to be your niece you spoke of?”

“It is, indeed! Freida, this is Hamfast Gamgee, he had the greenest thumb in all the Shire, and it is an honor to have him look after my gardens.”

“Mr. Bilbo exaggerates, but it is a pleasure to have his patronage. It's very lovely to meet you, Freida. I'm sure my children would love to show you the woods once you're all settled in.”

Freida nodded with a curtsey. “Ay, that sounds wonderful Mr. Gamgee, thank you.”

“I shall see you for tea tomorrow, Hamfast, and my regards to the missus!” Bilbo waved.

They continued to the grand hole at the very top of the hill. The hobbits hopped off the cart, and Gandalf continued around the bend.

“There is a pasture just beyond for the horse, and Gandalf will be joining us for a light super.” Bilbo unlatched the front gate, Freida following close behind. He took out a ring of keys and opened the large, deep green front door. “Would you mind putting on the kettle in the kitchen to the left there? I'm just going to light the sconces down the hall.”

Freida hummed in agreement, setting her bag in the front parlor, and found a kettle that was already filled with water. She placed it on the stove, searching for tinder to light it the fire.

“Would you like some help?”

Freida yelped as she noticed the wizard had appeared behind her.

“Good gracious, Gandalf!” She had instinctively had flung her hand to her chest in surprise. “Ummm, yes, I'm not sure how to get it going.”

The wizard nodded, smiling. He set his hat down on a large chair, and attended to the fire. Freida searched around until she found a pantry shelf with tea, pulling down a few options to offer.

Bilbo called in from a corner of the large home, “Freida, had Gandalf come in yet?”

“I'm here, Bilbo?,” the wizard replied. There was a long pause as Bilbo out together why he didn’t hear the front door.

“Ah! All right, well…” his voice got closer until he was in the kitchen with them. “Why don’t I get supper going?”

The three enjoyed some peace and quiet as the fireplace cracked and popped. Freida prepared some vegetables to cook with a roast, and Bilbo took to reading some of his writing aloud. She never doubted that her uncle had been on such wondrous journeys, but she was thrilled hearing her uncle speak of them so openly. With herself and the younger children, it always sounded like he left out many details to please their parents… and her guess was so very correct. She couldn't help smiling as she heard him ramble on about all the dwarves who had come to visit before his great adventure.

“How does that sound so far, Gandalf? I'm not losing my memory yet, eh?” the hobbit winked.

Gandalf chuckled, sipping his tea. “No, indeed not Bilbo.”

“Freida, dear, that looks to be enough. Let’s throw everything in the pot and I’ll show you your room, eh?” She nodded happily, bringing the bowl of carrots, potatoes, and radishes, all diced up, to the large lidded pot that the cut of roast was already in.

“Looks perfect… Oh! This would be perfect cooked in some hearty red wine, don’t you think? I’ll be back in a moment!” The jovial hobbit walked briskly down to the cellar, and Freida sat for a moment, worn from the day's journey.

“He is so very fond of you, I think you will be as much good to him as he will be to you.” Gandalf said, taking a puff from his pipe.

She smiled gently. “I do hope so… I hope that I can make him proud. So many folk are hard on him for things they can't understand.” She paused for a moment, “many years from now, he will be old and unable to care for himself so well, and of all hobbits, he does not deserve to be alone in those days. And I…”

She was interrupted by the return of her bright-faced relative holding a dark bottle. “Here we are! Perfect for a roast!” Gandalf winked to her, as if to put their discussion on hold. “My dear girl, would you mind getting the oven door for this foolish old Baggins?”

She sprang up and used an old rag to open the door as his lifted the pot and slid it inside. She closed and latched the door as her uncle procured three glasses to set on the table. “Let us finish the bottle off, shall we?”

Freida and Gandalf exchanged smiling glances, acknowledging that she still hadn't even set her bag in her room yet. Bilbo began to pour the wine, when Freida finally spoke up. “Uncle, would you mind telling me where the washroom is?”

“Surely!” He placed the bottle down, having just poured a final glass for himself. “Down the main hall here, all the way down on the right, just passed your bedroom.” He audibly gasped upon speaking. “Good gracious, what a simple fool am I! Come, I'll just give you a tour, let me take your bag.”

The two walked slowly down the corridor as he pointed out each room. The pantries, cellars, the parlor, the library and drawing room, and at the end were bedrooms. “I'm right here on the right, the first bedroom is made up for bigger folk such as Gandalf, in case anyone decides to drop in, and right here is yours!”

Freida stepped in; she hadn't had a room to herself in so many years. The bed was nestled in the corner, with a writing desk beside a perfectly round window that looked out over the field and forest to the north. Bilbo stepped in as well, setting her bag beside the wardrobe. Once he did, she surprised him with a tight embrace. “Thank you… thank you for taking me in.”

He patted her head, and held her back. “I only wish I had sooner…”

She excused herself to the washroom, and Bilbo returned to the kitchen, smiling. He came back to see that Gandalf had set out the dishes and silverware for each person. “Does she seem to be settling in?” he asked the hobbit.

“Hmm? Oh yes, I should say so.” He took a large gulp of wine from his glass.

Gandalf raised his eyebrows, “Anything the matter, Bilbo?”

Bilbo did a double take back toward the bedrooms before speaking. “Do you think I will do all right? Not that she isn’t already capable of handling herself, but I've never done this before, raise a child. And she is nearly a tween at that! I want what is best for her, but, am I what is best for her?”

Gandalf nodded. “There is something different about that child, I do not think you will have as hard a time as you may think.”

“There is something special about her…” Bilbo repeated, reaffirming for himself, “she is so patient and kind, but makes mischief too. So curious about the world.” Bilbo began to stare of out the window. “I wish only for her happiness. I know if it was up to those Brandybucks they would try to marry her off the day she came of age. But she deserves better than that.” Footsteps came down the hall, and Bilbo coughed, taking one more sip of wine.

“Uncle, would you like me to set the… oh, it's already done!” She sat down, smiling, “shall I check on supper?”

“No, it will be a while yet… you're welcome to any of the books if you are sick of listening to us ramble on. Gandalf, I might join you in some pipeweed before we dine.”

Freida nodded, finding her way to the study and library. She looked through the shelves, combing for ones that she recalled he suggested in his letters, when she found a book of translated Elvish poems. She thumbed through the first few pages, and decided to give it a try. She returned to the parlor to find her uncle and the wizard chuckling in the middle of a cloud of smoke. She smiled, cracked open a window, and sat down with her book in the parlor beside the kitchen. About an hour passed, and Freida got so lost in her book, she didn’t even hear the first time her uncle called her to the table.

“Freida?!” He called again, not harshly but louder.

“Hmm? Yes?” She perked up.

“Care to join us?”

“Oh….Oh! I’m so sorry!!” She set her book down and joined them at the table.


	3. Party Preperations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A grand party brings great joy, and great sadness.

 

 

_Years later…._

Freida awoke with the book she had been reading laying upon her chest. She stretched her arms out wide, and rolled off her bed to get properly dressed. She quickly brushed her hair, and removed her nightgown and replaced it with her favorite summer dress. It was early September, but still fairly warm outside. She tied a matching ribbon around her head as a hairband. She couldn't hear any rustling beyond her room, so when she emerged she went straight to the kitchen to put on a kettle for tea. She kept a small book tucked in her apron pocket with a pencil to keep notes through the day of things to do, and marked down to go to town and pick up potatoes for the pantry. She started working a batch of scones when she heard a knock on the front door, and peaked through the kitchen window. Samwise Gamgee and his father waited patiently at the door, and she sprinted across the kitchen to let them in.

“Good morning! Tea is on,  and I'm making scones now. Please, come in!” She politely held the door open as they entered. 

“Thank ye kindly, miss. Is your uncle about?” The old Gaffer asked, sitting siren at his usual place. Freida had insisted to Bilbo that they serve the two tea before they began work on the gardens each week.

“I believe he is still asleep… up late planning his grand birthday party again.” Freida poured them each a cup of herbal tea, offering sugar to each.

“Thank you, Miss Freida.” Sam spoke. He was usually a quiet hobbit, keeping to himself and to his plants, but Freida had gotten him to open up to her and they had become good friends over the years.

“You are very welcome, Master Samwise,” she replied. She tended to her scone dough, adding in some raspberries she had picked the day before, and began to form neat triangles on the tray.

“How are the flowers looking? Do you think they will still be in full bloom for the 22nd?”

“Ay, as long as we don't have an early frost they should hold up well through the harvest!” Gaffer replied, sipping his tea.

A very grumbly Bilbo entered the kitchen and sat down at the head of the table. Freida poured him some tea, and kissed the top of his head. “Good morning, dear uncle.”

“Good morning, Freida, dear.” He sipped his tea and greeted their guests. Freida slid the tray of scones into the oven, removing her apron.

“I'm going to the marketplace later, is there anything I should pick up for you?” She retrieved notebook and wrote down a few more things they needed for dinner.

“A fresh loaf of bread for teatime later, honey, err…. Hmnm…” Bilbo thought fir a moment, mumbling his thoughts aloud. “Oh! Butter! Yes… we will likely use the rest of it with the scones.”

She finished writing, and peaked in at the scones.  “A few more minutes for those… would anyone care for eggs and sausage?”

All in agreement, she pulled out the fresh eggs and sausage links, and heated up the skillet. She had made all four of them a plate of eggs and links, and took the scones out just after serving each place. She placed them in a basket on the table, and sat down with them to eat.

“This is scrumptious as ever, miss, thank you.” Gaffer said between bites. Sam nodded in agreement, practically inhaling his eggs.

Bilbo ate slowly, sprinkling extra salt and pepper on before eating his eggs. The morning sunshine warmed the room, and Freida opened the window so they could enjoy the fragrances if the flowers as they opened up. As the Gamgee’s finished eating, she took their plates as they got up to start the day's work. Bilbo, still picking away at his food, had pulled out some paperwork to read through, and Freida refilled his tea. “I'm of for a walk in the woods before going to town,” she told him, kissing his cheek. “I'll be home for tea.” She gathered her bag with a couple of books, coins for her market errands,  and her wooden flute.

“Have a good time!” Bilbo waved her odd as she stepped out the door, whistling happily and taking in the fresh, cool morning air.

Freida ran freely down the hill toward the treeline into the forest. As she would many days, she would walk through the woods until she reached a clearing where she often went. She would read, or practice her Elvish lessons, or play her flute. Very rarely would she sing, feeling too embarrassed too, even though she was never interrupted.

She would spend several hours, much like today, wandering alone. She didn’t mind company, but after years if living in Brandy Hall, she still vastly preferred spending time on her own. One this particular afternoon, she fell asleep reading and woke up much later than she intended to be out. When she awoke, she collected her stuff and went into town to the grocer to pick up the items her uncle requested.

While the townsfolk were well aware of her uncle's reputation, they still respected him to an extent. Additionally, they were very taken by her, as she was not as reclusive as Bilbo tended to be. She exchanged her coins for the wares she needed, and headed home. She would be late for tea time, but her uncle usually waited for her.

She finally returned, and they made a pot of tea, and she brought some out to the Gamgees. Gaffer nodded, sitting down to rest. But it took her a bit to pull Sam aware from his work.

“Let me just pull these last few weeds, I’m almost there…” he requested.

“Here let me help…” she offered.

“No no… that’s quite all right, this rosebush had some nasty thorns… could you pick up where we left off in the book, though?” Every once in a while, she would read to Sam in the last hour or so they worked on the gardens. She was currently reading him the account of Beren and Luthien; reading a paragraph in Elvish and then translating. Sam was convinced the flowers enjoyed hearing her read as well, claiming that more buds would bloom when she did.

Each day went on, and the grand party grew closer and closer. She looked forward to seeing Gandalf again, but also since it was her birthday, as well. She had picked out a new dress for the party. But… she also kept a closer eye in Bilbo. Something didn’t feel right, like he was hiding from her sometimes. That was until the night before, when he invited her out to the garden to smoke pipeweed together. She had only smoked a few times, but only once with her uncle. They spent the night talking, even carrying a conversation in Sindarin for a little while.

“Uncle Bilbo…?” she asked, looking up into the stars.

“Yes, my dear?” he asked, writing in his book, with the other hand in his pocket.

“Are you ready for tomorrow? It is going to very different around here…” she said.

Bilbo paused, which she noted; he became distant and concerned. “Yes, I suppose it will be…”

“I shall meet up with Gandalf midday on the road, yes? It will be nice to see him again,” she stood up to stretch, and Bilbo closed her book.

“Shall we call it a night? It is getting very late.” He said, as she helped him stand up as well.

“Ay, it is. We need our rest for keeping up with all of those nosy gossips and family,” she winked, walking inside with him. He closed the door behind them as Freida removed the shawl she wore while they were outside. “Rest well, uncle, good night.”

“Good night, my dearest girl. I… I love you very much dear niece. I always will.” He smiled.

“And I love you,” she kissed his cheek, hugging him close. “See you in the morning.”

 

The morning of the party had arrived. Freida had found herself still very tired after waking up; sleep had avoided her for most of the night. She cleaned herself up thoroughly, putting her hair up, and putting on some rose powder and paste on her cheeks and lips. She put on her new dress: the bodice was a white and red rose floral fabric, with the rest of the dress being a deep, green color that matched the vines of the roses. She was finally “of age", a recognized adult, if still very youthful. While she had no interest in finding a husband, she was excited to dance with many lads at the party.

She went down to kitchen, noticing her uncle in his study with a book open, writing. She got an apple from the pantry, and called out to Bilbo before leaving. “I’m going down the Great Road to meet Gandalf. I’ll see you at the party…” no response came, she grabbed her things and set out for her walk.

She took her time walking, making notes in her journal of what she observed. The familiar path through the woods was newly adorned this year with a few wild blackberry bushes. She collected several in a very small basket, and ate a few along her way.

Finding her way to her usual waiting spot, she rested upon a tree. She opened her book, relaxing, and smoking from a small pipe to pass the time. She had nearly finished her book when she heard the familiar sound of a horse and cart coming down the road over the hill. Tucking the book into her pocket, Freida dashed up the hill to the edge of the forest that looks down over the road.

“You're late…” She stood on the crest of the drop down to the road, the carriage coming to a stop. Standing proudly, she placed her hands in her hips waiting for the driver's greeting.

“A wizard, Miss Baggins is never late,” he looked up at her, “…nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.” They were each stone faced for a few moments, before breaking into a hearty laugh.

“It's so wonderful to have you back!” Freida ran down the hill and hopped onto the seat of the cart and flung herself into him for a hug. He chuckled, patting her back, and urged the horse onward.

Gandalf had become a wonderful mentor, along with her uncle of course. He would bring her books from beyond the Shire's borders, news of the what is going on in the world beyond. Freida adored the Shire, but she was always fascinated hearing about the other peoples.

“Are you ready for the grand celebration? It sounds like Bilbo is throwing  party to remembered for centuries to come,” the wizard took to his pipe.

“That seem to be his intent! I’m convinced every living hobbit in the Shire will turn up, whether invited or otherwise.”

“Oh good, I’m sure you’re uncle lives by the phrase the more the merrier'….” The wizard quipped, making both of them laugh.

“The wonderful fool… I am a little worried, he has seemed particularly closed off the last few weeks.” To this, Gandalf raised his eyebrows. “I must coax him to eat, he writes and hides in his study all day… what can I do for him, Gandalf?”

Gandalf stayed quiet for a moment, which made Freida concerned. “He will be all right, just give him time. I’ll talk to him tonight, as well.”

Freida sighed, nodding. “All right, all right, keep your wizard-y tricks and secrets to yourself.”

“What ever do you mean?” The old man's voice was fakely insulted.

“I know you are both hiding something from me, I suppose I will find out soon enough.” She bumped her shoulder into him, attempting to make light of the conversation. They continued on until reaching Bagshot Row, where Freida jumped off to see about the rest of the party preparations, and let her uncle catch up with the grey wizard.

 

\------

 

One moment her uncle was speaking to the large congregation of hobbits, the next he was gone. Freida felt confused, out of focus… the night had not gone the way she thought.

The party had been magnificent, until then. She had danced her heart out, her mischievous cousins brought her some special pipeweed for the night, and she even had gotten Samwise to dance with Rosie, whom he had been soft on for a few years now. The fireworks and food were wonderful, and she thought her uncle's speech had been perfectly… him.

But now she was feeling lost. The hobbit party had become a raucous of chaos, and most of the hobbits had begun to disperse and go home. She had been wandering around, between the confusion and her own inebriation, she was not in the mindset to know what to do. A hand tapped her on the shoulder, it was Samwise, of course.

“Miss Freida, where did Mister Bilbo go?” he asked. After seeing the look on her face, he became concerned on his usual Sam-like way. “Freida… are you all right?”

She shook her head, stumbling. He could see the fear in her eyes, and looked around to see who else was still on the greens. “C'mon, miss, let me walk you home, at least.” She let him help her along back home, unsure of what would be there upon her return. He brought her up to the front gate, where she insisted going on ahead.

“I wish to speak to my uncle privately, I’ll come to call tomorrow morning,” she insisted.

Sam nodded, unsure. “All right miss, have a good evening. And… Happy Birthday.” He said, waving and returning back down the road to his family's hole.

Freida took in a deep breath, she could see candles lit inside, and hear voices. She opened the door, and called out “Uncle Bilbo?”

Upon opening the door, she witnessed him dressed up and packed, looking ready to travel. His face was stunned.

“Bilbo… the ring is… oh…” Gandalf hadn’t heard Freida enter, and cut himself short.

Her eyes began to fill with tears, “Uncle… what is going on?” Closing the door behind her, she could see the conflict in his face.

“I… I am growing old, dear child.” He said, wearily.

“Yes, I know that, as all mortal folk do…” she replied.

“But I feel I can not stay in the Shire any longer… I wish to see the world of I can before my time is over,” he explained calmly. Freida was lost in thought, all at once exhausted and feeling as if she could never rest again. “This is… not how I wanted to leave, but leave I must. I entrust you, as you have come of age, with the Baggins home, and all which I have not packed.”

Freida wanted to be angry. She wanted to yell at him, beg him to stay… but she knew that he could not. She simply nodded, wiping her face and cleared her throat. “All I ask is that you remain safe and happy in your travels, uncle.” She stepped aside to let him leave, when he wizard called his name again. Bilbo stuck his hand in his pocket, removing something and placing it carefully into her hands.

“Farewell, Freida. Until we meet again.” With that, he took his walking stick and departed quietly down the road. The distraught niece watched him leave, closing the door once he was out of sight.

“Bring it here, Freida.” The old man asked from the kitchen.

She stepped cautiously to him, where he held an envelope open for her. She slid the small trinket, a ring, from her hand into the parchment, and stamped it shut with wax. Feeling dizzy, she sat beside him at the table, her weariness was written plainly on her pale face.

“Go ahead to rest for the night. I must depart this evening on business, but I will return when I can.” He patted her shoulder as she stood up, leaving the envelope on the table.


	4. What Must Be Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world is stirring.... Gandalf returns to speak with Freida on a matter of great urgency.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leaning more toward the movies than the books, in that not as much time passes between Bilbo leaving and Frodo (Freida) setting off for Rivendell.

           A few yers passed, seemingly in a blink of an eye. Freida took over the maintenance of the fair estate of her family, still insisting that the Gamgees maintain the gardens, keeping open bedrooms for any who may drop by, big and small folk alike. Her cousins came to visit often, and she even had Rosie Cotton over for tea a few times. The days seemed to repeat themselves.

Freida still took her usual walks, but they grew fewer and fewer. She immersed herself in her uncle's books, writing a bit on her own as well. But of course, she enjoyed joining the other young folk at the Green Dragon most nights. Her friends grew concerned for her, but for the most part, she had tried to remain her usual self when with others.

Her birthday came back around, and she had hoped for it to be as normal as any other day. Her friends gave a toast for her at the Green Dragon, and walked home with Sam after a long night. They bid goodnight and she continues up the hill on her own. The fall evening was chilly, and she was thankful to have a warm bed to come home to. The hobbit hole was rather eerie in the dark, she found a match and start to light a few sconces and the fireplace, when she heard a desperate knocking on the door. The figure outside the door was large, cloaked and hooded. She opened the door to see a familiar grey pointed hat, but its wearer was distraught.

“Where is it? Is it hidden?  Is it safe?” he asked entering through the door, nearly hitting his head.

“Where…is what?” she asked.

“The ring your uncle left you!” he said a little more forcefully.

Freida nodded that she understood, and ran to the study. In a box that she had disguised as a book, she had placed the envelope that still contained the trinket of her uncle's journey. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Gandalf snatch it from her hands, gesturing for her to follow.

He threw the envelope into the newly-made fire in the parlor, causing Freida to gasp loudly. Gandalf grabbed one of the fire pokes, revealing that it had not melted. The gold, glistening ring stood out among the ashes, and he pulled it out with a pair of tongs. “Hold out your hand.” He asked. She obeyed, and nearly flinched when it was dropped into her hand.

“It's… quite cold… but how? What is going on?!” she cried out.

Gandalf told her of Sauron, reminding her of the stories of the rings of power for men, elves, and dwarves. He explained how the creature of Gollum had found the years, secluded for centuries in mountain caves, and who should come upon him but her own uncle. Gollum went in search of “Baggins" but was captured and tortured by orcs.

“So they know of the name of Baggins?” she asked.

“And of the Shire…” Gandalf said, with fear in his voice. “You are not safe here, the Ring must be taken to Rivendell.”

She looked at the ring; this seemingly harmless item that had been hunted for so many years. She held it up to Gandalf, “Then take it, please! No harm can come to the Shire!” Gandalf crossed his hands, looking away from her.

“I…. Do not offer it to me. I dare not even touch it, for it may drive me to madness. It can not be used for good, and it would call me to wield its power.” Gandalf looked out the window, making sure all was safe and quiet.

“Then… I will bring it.” She took a step back, saw her travelling bag by the fireplace and grabbed it, collecting food and money. “I will arrange for the Gamgees to look after the house while I am gone, I will take the road…”

“NO! You must travel through the woods and away from the road! Those who wish to take it to Sauron could see you, possibly sense its presence. You must also travel under a different name, a disguise if needed.” He said, pondering.

She paused, as she was reaching for an apple with a butter knife beside it. She turned, taking one of the large knives in her hand, grabbing her length of hair, and swiping it through the strands. Her past-shoulder length hair was now just to her ears. Gandalf's mouth opened, no words coming out.

“I have britches, that I keep as changes for my cousins. I can travel as a hobbit lad, under a different name.” She combed her newly shortened hair with her fingers.

Gandalf suddenly smiled. “Hobbits are remarkable creatures… you think you know what to expect from them from decades of getting to know them, and yet even still, hold surprises and hope beyond any belief. Go, change, you must leave as soon as you can.”

Freida nodded, running to her room. She retrieved a pair of pants, and the two other spares. Removing her dress and all layers of skirts came with. She put on a tunic over her corset, tightening the top to complete the disguise. She heard a noise and a yell from the parlor, and ran to see what had happened.

“I promise I meant no harm… I heard talking while out walking to check on the flowers and wanted to make sure Miss Freida was all right!” She stepped in quietly, Gandalf noticed her but Sam could not from  where he was held on the table.

“Indeed, not spying on her, or eavesdropping on what was spoken.” He shook the trembling gardener.

“N-n-n-no Mister Gandalf! I promise! I just worry about her being all alone and didn’t want to see her get hurt or nothin'. I only heard of a ring, a dark lord, men and dwarves and… elves.” Sam was thoroughly worn and upset, so Gandalf pulled him back up onto his feet. Sam turned around, glimpsing Freida for a moment before speaking again. “F-Freida…?”

“Indeed, Master Samwise, it makes me glad that you care for Freida's well-being…”

“Frodo.” She said plainly. “I need to travel under a different name, don’t I? Frodo Underhill will be my name.”

 

\-----

 

“Get off the road!!” Freida yelled, and the four of them ran down a small hill and pressed themselves up into the naturally formed hollow spot under a tree root.

The large person dismounted off of their horse, a heavy presence of cold and darkness filled the air. Freida shut her eyes, listening, waiting. Her two cousins had just run into her and Samwise, leaving little explanation for much of anything going on.

The four of them hid as silently as possible, hearing the footsteps above and the inhuman noises made by the rider. Freida suddenly felt her head ache, a loud pounding causing her to feel dizzy. Faintly, she though she heard a calling in the distance, only to find it was coming from the Ring. She concentrated hard on breathing slow and steady, as she resisted even touching the gold trinket where it was kept in her coat pocket.

Sam held her hand tightly, both in his own fear, and to stop her from moving.

Merry had the bag of stolen vegetables in his hand, and tossed them down a steep hill to lead the rider away. They heard a haunting shriek, loud and piercing. Once they were sure the rider had gone, they ran quickly away as fast and quietly as they could to a quiet clearing.

“All right, now what’s going on?” Pippin asked his cousins and Samwise. “Frelly, where are you..”

“Shhhhhh!!” She uttered. “You musn't call me that… I am going by the traveling name of Frodo.”

“But why?? And why is your hair so short, you’ve had it long for years?” Pippin stubbornly pressed. All four hobbits heard a noise, turning suddenly. It was starting to get dark out, and they knew they needed to move fast.

“There is something… something dark pursuing us. Sam and I need to get to Bree.” She said sternly.

“We need to cross the river… the Buckleberry Ferry is just ahead.” Merry insisted, leading them toward the shore down through the trees going west. The sun was beginning to set, and they were cautious and vigilant as they made their way through the forest. They had made it to a section of road, and Merry silently pointed to a dock on the river not to far down.

Suddenly, the cloaked rider came up behind them, and they heard the screaming once more with the rider now upon them, circling them like a hunter. The hobbits ran around the large horse, dodging from the stomping hooves.

“C'mon!” Merry cried, managing to break away and run to the river's edge. Pippin and Sam were able to follow suit, but Freida couldn’t manage to get around the horse. Taking a deep breath, she ducked below the beast's belly and ran to try and catch up to the rest. They were already at the dock preparing the raft. She ran as hard as she could, but the rider persisted to chase her down. She managed to jump onto the raft just after they had pushed it. The black rider stopped at the water's edge, the shriek stinging the night air. They watched breathlessly as the rider turned back toward the road, and two more followed behind.

“What business do you have in Bree, cuz?” Merry asked suspiciously. “And… why are you travelling by a different name?”

All was explained along their journey to the village of Bree, located just beyond the border of the Shire. The two cousins agreed to use her pseudonym, and they entered Bree quietly, looking for the Prancing Pony, where she had agreed to meet Gandalf.


	5. A Change of Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hobbits arrive in Bree, but must continue no matter what.

The four of them entered the inn out of the rain, cloaks soaked from the rain. They were concerned to learn Gandalf was not there, but decided to spend the night and try to find him in the morning. They shared a light dinner, bread and cheese, and each got a pint of the house-brewed ale. Freida sat quietly, thinking hard about their next move. If Gandalf didn’t come, do they make their way to Rivendell on their own? She knew the way, roughly, but to not go down the road would make things difficult.

Sam nudged her out of her thoughts, gesturing by tilting his head. “There's a fellow in the corner who has been staring at us since we arrived. We ought to be careful, perhaps call it an early night.”

Freida nodded, doing her best to keep her voice dark and a little cracked. “Once we have finished our meal… have you seen Merry and Pip?”

“Pippin is sitting up at the bar, I’m not sure where Merry went to…” Sam said, looking around. Their focus was redirected when they heard Pippin standing on the bar, singing for all of the big folks. Sam shook his head, muttering.

Freida watched her cousin, but when he started toward her, she became alarmed. “C’mon, cuz, you know the words!” he continued singing and dragged her into it. Freida glared at him angrily, but played along so as not to start a raucous. They finished the song, but the folks all around started chanting for another one.  Freida shook her head, backing away toward their table when a stumbling drunkard bumped in to her, and she started to fall backwards. As she did, she could feel the Ring start to fly out of her pocket, and she reached up to catch it. As she did, however, it managed to get caught on her index finger and slid all the way on by the time she hit the floor.

            Freida could vaguely hear the laughter and yelling from the reactions of the Prancing Pony’s patrons, but they sounded like a far away dream. The room grew dark, and she felt a dark presence pulling her in all directions. She scurried backwards; a large, flaming eye encompassed the room. She heard voices of an ancient language, speaking to her, calling her name.  Breaths becoming short and hastened, she shook her head violently to regain focus, and removed the Ring from her hand. She found herself under a nearby table, and caught her breath for a moment before being pulled up.

            A tall man pushed her up the stairs, roughly whispering “You’ve caused quite enough trouble for one night, Mr. Underhill…” She was pushed into the first Hobbit-sized room up the steps, and the door was swiftly closed.

            “I m-m-mean no harm, ranger, I promise.” She begged, using her lower toned voice.

            “Indeed you don’t, but you carry something with you that has dealt a lot of harm already.” He extinguished the lit candles. “You should exercise more caution, there are those who would seek out such a dark power.” He removed his hood, revealing his tired, weathered face. His facial hair was scruffy, but he possessed a kind of youth in his eyes that reminded her of the elves. “It must not fall into the wrong hands.”

            “Who are you, what do you want?” she asked.

            “I am a friend of Gandalf. He told me to expect him here this evening, along with two hobbits, but it appears that you’ve acquired more companions.”

            Footsteps were heard running toward the room, and the ranger drew his blade, facing the door.

            “I’ll have you, Longshanks!” Sam bellowed with his fists raised, their other two companions close behind; Merry with a walking stick and Pippin with a barstool. They ranger put away his blade, raising his hands.

            “I mean you no harm, I swear it. As I was just telling Mr. Underhill here, I am a friend of Gandalf’s.”

            “Are you now, Strider?  Prove it!” Merry demanded, squinting his eyes.

            The ranger turned to Freida, “Im Aragorn, Arathornion. Beriathon gen na guil nìn, Freida Baggins trannail.”  ( _I am Aragorn, song of Arathorn. I shall protect you with my life, Baggins of the Shire)._ He bowed slightly, crossing his right hand over his chest.

            Freida nodded toward the other hobbits, signaling them to put down their “weapons”. “Do you know why Gandalf has not come?” she asked, her voice returning to normal.

            “I was hoping you would know that, I have grown concerned for I have not heard from him otherwise. However… we can not wait here in Bree for him, we must continue on to Rivendell until the Ring is safe, but for tonight, let us rest….”

            They were able to convince the inn-keeper to allow them to stay in a storage room on the lower level, and made the beds up to look as if the four of them were laid to rest under the blankets. Samwise, Pippin and Merry were all exhausted and fell asleep not long after laying down in the bedrolls, but both Freida and Aragorn remained awake. Aragorn had agreed to keep watch, but Freida was plagued by troubling thoughts. What she had seen when she had the Ring on had terrified her, and a feeling of dread and darkness had persisted. She sat awake, up against one of the walls, staring at the wall.

             “You should rest, it will be a long journey to Rivendell from here, since we must travel through the wilderness.” Aragorn insisted. He was met with no response, which concerned him. “Freida, you must get some sleep…” he urged. She turned toward him slowly, the silence broken by the sound of rushing hooves and shrieking. Freida shut her eyes tightly, as the riders dismounted and entered the building. The other hobbits had awoken, drowsy but wide eyed in fear. They heard knocking and banging, more screams and loud crashes. The figures returned outside, mounting they dark steeds before riding away.

“What are they?” Freida asked, whispering.

“They were once mortal men…Who had desired power, and accepted rings of power from Sauron. They fell into darkness, becoming puppets to his will. They are called nazgul, neither alive nor fear, shadows of who they once was.” Aragorn stared Freida directly in the eyes. “They will stop at nothing to hunt you down.”

 

\--

 

The next morning, they set off toward Rivendell, cutting through muddy grasslands and cold marshes. Sam had convinced the ranger to allow them to bring a small pony to carry provisions, whom Sam had affectionately named “Bill". The ranger also acquired each of them small daggers. Being early fall, it was not freezing but it was cold enough in the mornings when they would set off. They traveled as far as they could each day, resting only at nightfall. It was remarkable, even to Freida, that her cousins could retain so much enthusiasm through the long days, still singing and joking, sometimes even getting their guide to play along.

In the evenings, they would exchange watch. Freida would insist upon Strider resting more than he would care for, but would oblige. She would listen through the rustling of the trees and passing by nocturnal animals for anything apart from the ordinary. She also heard the dark voices that called to her from her pocket, from the Ring. Trying desperately to ignore the persistence, Frida would hum quietly or whisper Elvish poetry.

“What troubles you, young hobbit?” The ranger asked.

She turned in surprise, and then settled after a moment. “Just… keeping myself awake,” she managed a small smile.

“Your uncle taught you Sindarin, did he not?” he asked, sitting up and pulling out a small smoking pipe.

Freida turned toward him; she guessed that he was not used to resting so much, and his body resisted sleep. “He did… Gandalf told you?”

Aragorn shook his head, “No, actually. Your uncle Bilbo and I have met on a few occasions, he spoke very highly of you.”

Her face lit up, “You know Bilbo?” she smiled.

“Yes, he’s quite fond of Rivendell. I remember first meeting him as a boy, it was the first hobbit I had ever met. The dwarves he traveled with caused quite the commotion at the time, it was rather exciting. Back then, I was called only Estel,” the ranger puffed on his pipe. “There are still some who call me that, including your uncle.”

Freida sat in thought, delighted to hear about her uncle, but dozens of questions filled her mind. “Did you grow up in Rivendell, then? Are you parents friends of the elves?”

Aragorn tilted his head slightly, biting his lip a bit and exhaling the pipe smoke from the nose. “In a way… my father was killed when I was very small, so my mother and myself lived with Elrond and his folk after that. When I came of age to take up my father’s role as leader of the rangers, she returned to be with her family, until she died.” He continued smoking his pipe as he spoke, peaking Freida’s interest.

“I also lost my parents… which is part of why Bilbo took me in,” she spoke softly.

The ranger nodded, “Bilbo told me… forgive my asking, but, how did they die?” he asked.

“There was an accident…on the river…” she stopped herself from continuing on. A distant noise, which sounded like it could be from a bird, but almost a little too unnatural sounding, drew the attention of both of them. “I will tell you another time, if that’s all right…” Aragorn nodded, starting to put out his pipe. “How far are we from Rivendell?”

“If we travel at the pace we have been going, we should reach Weathertop tomorrow evening, and then it is a little less than a fortnight from there.” He explained, packing away his pipe. “Shall I take over watch, so you may rest?”

Freida shook her head, “I shall find no rest tonight, I will wake you at dawn.”


	6. In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They reach the ruins of Weathertop, and have an encounter with the enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In keeping with the movie, we've got some Arwen! 
> 
> I found this to be appropriate, given that the overall theme for this for me was to have a stronger feminine presence.

The foreboding feeling she had stuck in her thoughts continued into the next day, as they approached Weathertop. After so many days outside, the chilly, October wind shook the hobbits down to their bones.

“What I wouldn’t give for a hot bath and a proper meal…” Pippin complained.

“How much longer until we get to Rivendell, Strider?” Merry asked, whipping around a stick like a sword.

“About twelve days march, Meriadoc. We’ve made good time, perhaps sooner if we keep a good pace,” he replied. “Come, we will make camp there at Weathertop for the night.” They climbed the hill that was adorned by old, worn ruins as the sun began to set for the night. “This was once a watchtower and meeting place, many years ago… Merry and Pippin, come with me to collect firewood. Sam and Freida, keep watch, we will not be long.”

“A campfire! It’s been so long since we’ve had one of those…” Sam remarked happily. Freida smiled as well, helping Sam prepare supper for the evening, but she knew there must’ve been a good reason for Aragorn to request a fire.

The ranger and the other two hobbits descended the hill, gathering small branches and brush. Pippin even managed to find edible berries that were growing late in the season, and they collected enough to fill one of their pouches. On their way back, Merry stopped suddenly, looking at one of the surrounding hills.

“Merry, did you see something?” Aragorn asked urgently.

The hobbit shook his head, “It was probably nothing… but I thought I saw a dark shadow on the hill. Ahhh…  it was probably a trick of the light.”

The ranger patted his back, “Even so, we should head back to rejoin Freida and Sam swiftly.”

The small company sat around the warm fire, the hobbits huddled together for warmth as they tried to go to sleep. The moon and stars were hidden behind clouds, making the night feel even more eerie. The constant echoes and whispers Freida heard were impossible to ignore. In a moment of frustration, Freida got up from the fire; her uneasiness peaking and she started to feel nauseous.

“Is something the matter, Freida?” Aragorn asked.

She shook her head, “Something… something’s wrong…” she said, wearily.

Several shrieks were heard coming from below, and then more. Freida and Aragorn exchanged glances, she covered her mouth to keep from screaming. The other hobbits were startled, looking around nervously.

“Quickly, grab a branch from the fire and make a circle, _now._ ” Aragorn handed each of them a branch, wielding two himself. They stood around the fire, holding steady, waiting for any sign of movement. Merry suddenly gasped, seeing one of the cloaked figures emerge from the shadows. More appeared, surrounding the party. “Hold your ground.” Aragorn whispered.

Freida’s heart was beating faster and faster. The Ring’s presence has become difficult to withstand, calling for her to put it on. She could hide, and they wouldn’t see her… they would see that she’s gone and leave her friends alone. Under her cloak, she reached into her pocket, feeling the cool metal on her fingers. Her heart felt a wave of pain, like pressure ripping through her body, compelling her to put it on.

In a moment of weakness, she obliged and slipped the Ring on her finger, she could hear Sam speak something to her as the world fell into shadow.

She saw the five riders, not in black but all in white. They were hollowed out figures in long robes, and all turned to face her the second she slipped on their master’s weapon. She tossed the branch back onto the fire and drew her blade, holding it in front of her. They advanced, seemingly un-wavered by any actions taken by her companions, who looked like ghosts floating in the shadowy world. Four of them halted, while the tallest of them continued to advance toward her.

Freida backed up slowly, but noticed she was approaching the edge of the cliffs, turning back toward the figure. Whispers and words came from the figures, yet their mouths did not move.

“ _Baggins….to Mordor we will take you…”_

She shook her head, and stood her ground as the figure continued to advance. Once close enough, he drew his blade and raised it to strike down on her.

“Elbereth Gilthoniel!” she barked loudly, swinging her dagger at the figure’s torso, tearing some of the fabric. The near-skeletal face grew angry, emitting it’s horrid shrieking before bringing the blade up toward her heart.

As she tried to block the attack, the knife sunk deep into her shoulder.

Freida screamed fiercely in pain and anger, and she struck her own dagger downwards into the enemy’s foot, driving it away. The knife was pulled out of her, she felt something break inside her shoulder, before hearing the hilt drop to the ground. Dazed, she looked around.

Through her tear-filled eyes she saw Aragorn and the others start to drive the figures away with the torches. She was kneeling on the ground, gripping the wounded shoulder, hearing them call her name. Using her thumb, she rubbed at the Ring until it slid off her finger.

The sudden change of scenery made her feel dizzy, as if the world had been flipped on its side. Sam noticed that she had appeared, and rushed to her side just before she collapse , unconscious.

“Freida, NO!” her gardener’s voice cracked as he caught her before she felt onto the cold, rocky ground. He turned her gently, laying her on her back. “Strider!” he called. The ranger had finished driving away the wraiths, and turned to see the hobbits surrounding their friend where she lay. “She won’t wake up, what happened to her?!” Sam asked, panicking. He noticed the Ring on the ground by her side, using a kerchief to pick it up and placed it in her pocket.

Aragorn walked across the hilltop to look at her, and noticed the broken knife hilt on the ground. He knelt down to pick it up, cursing to himself as he leaned down beside the hobbits. He noticed blood on the tunic she wore, and lifted the cloak to reveal the gash in her shoulder. “She’s been stabbed by a Morgul blade…” he said.

“Where… is the pale king…” her eyes were half-open, and she spoke softly and dreamily. The color drained from Aragorn’s face, and he gently lifted her.

“We must keep moving, we must reach Rivendell.” He heard her painfully whimper from being moved, and turned to the other hobbits. “Get Bill, we need to leave now!”

They began to run through the thick forest, Aragorn leading the way, holding onto Freida tightly. She whispered mindlessly, her mind trapped in a fog. Upon day break, the hobbits began to slow, unable to keep up with Aragorn’s stride. He found a small clearing, and carefully laid the hobbit down so she was upright against a tree.

“We will rest here for some time, but we must push forward by mid-day.” The hobbits caught up, nearly collapsing to the ground. “I’m going to scout the area, I will return shortly. If I do not return within the hour, you must continue on. Sam, start a fire and get some water from my flask heated up..”

The hobbit sat in silence, resting their eyes and their feet. Sam stayed close to Freida while tending to the fire; she was eerily still in sleep. Her face was flushed, and the dark circles that had begun to form under her eyes. Her skin was ashen-grey, and her left hand was freezing cold.

It was not long until Aragorn had returned, a small bundle of greens were gathered in his hands. “What’s that?” Sam asked.

“It’s _athelas_ , a medicinal herb that is rarely found now, but thankfully there was some growing not too far away.” He tore small sections of the herb in his hands before placing it the pot of water. The warm, herbal aroma filled the air around them. Freida stirred, her eyes blinking open, and groaned softly.

“Thank stars, Freida…” Sam rushed to her side.

She blinked a few times, looking around and talking in her surroundings before speaking. “Hello, Sam… where are we?” she asked breathlessly.

“Not a day from Weathertop… tell me, how do you feel?” Aragorn asked, dipping a cloth into the pot over the fire.

“Cold… and sore.” She tried to move, but a searing cold burned from her shoulder. She gasped at the pain, readjusting herself more carefully. “The _nazgul_ …my shoulder…” she rolled get head back a little, clenching her jaw through the discomfort.

Aragorn removed the cloth from the pot, “Let me see it…” he asked gently, to which she lifted the cloak with her opposite hand. The ranger placed the cloth on the wound, pressing carefully. “Tell me if I press to hard.”

Freida shook her head, “No, that feels much better actually, thank you.” She stretched and curled the fingers on her left hand, some warmth and movement was able to return.

“Sam, pour the rest of the water in my flask, we will need it until we can reach the healers in Rivendell.” He proceeded to replace the cloak over her. “Freida, do you think you can walk?”

She nodded, “I think so…” Pippin and Merry came to her side and helped her stand.

“Come, we must get moving.”

The weary hobbits followed the ranger further east, navigating carefully through the terrain. Each night for the first few, Aragorn treated her shoulder with the herbal water. He grew concerned that it wasn't closing very easily, and Freida's condition grew worse. She rarely talked, the color in feet skin had not returned, and Aragorn knew she had been evading sleep to avoid the terrors in her dreams. She had started walking with a long stick she had found for support, but she never complained even when they would walk longer and longer distances.

Nearly a week away from Weathertop, she still insisted on walking as opposed to being carried, but at the end of the day she all but collapsed in exhaustion. She fell deeply asleep before they ate supper, each of her companions glanced over to check on her once in a while.

Before they laid to rest, they could hear the whinny of a horse not to far away. Startled, the hobbits huddled around Freida, Aragorn hiding behind a tree but glancing in the direction of the sound. He emerged when he saw the horse and its rider.

The pearl-white horse was guided toward them; the rider cloaked in a soft purple dismounted rushing to Aragorn. The hobbits looked up, along with a barely-awake Freida.

“Estel!” The elven woman’s voice cried, embracing the ranger. “I’ve been looking for you for days, nine riders pursue you.” She turned to look at the huddled halflings, her face dropped. “The girl… she is fading into darkness.”

The other three hobbits shifted aside to let the elf kneel down and inspect their companion. All of them were in awe of the elf’s beauty and the warmth that followed her.

Freida looked into the elf’s eyes, wearily; the tall maiden appeared to be emitting a warm, bright light. The hobbit felt the darkness that loomed over her try to resist the light of the elf’s _fëa_ , sending a wave of pain through her. She winced, trying to resist the growing discomfort, but it was only retaliated with the pain growing sharper.

“Arwen, there is an evil at work where she was struck. She needs to get to your father.” Aragorn said, kneeling beside her. The elf effortlessly picked up the hobbit, placing her on the saddle of her horse.

“I will bring her, I’m a faster rider.” The elf insisted.

Aragorn shook his head, “it’s far too dangerous…” He held her hands in his. “But you are right…”

Arwen nodded, mounting her horse, making sure Freida was securely seated. The sounds of other horses approached them. “Noro lim, Asfaloth!” she cried.

Freida had not ridden a horse this large before, but it was surprisingly smooth considering the horse galloped so quickly through the dense forest. She could feel the Ring whispering evil words to her: to jump off the horse, to put it on… to give up.

The elf held her closely, holding the reins in front of the hobbit. As the horse jumped over bushes and out of the trees, three ringwraiths approached them from behind. Their sharp screams pierced the night, and two more appeared from the north.

Arwen urged the horse to go faster, feeling Freida grow weak in her arms. It was nearly dawn by the time Rivendell was in view; they descended a hill down to the shallows of the Bruinen, now with nine riders following closely behind. In an attempt to gain some distance between them, Arwen directed the horse into a grove of trees, weaving between them; but to not avail. When they reached the river’s edge, she crossed over while the nine _nazgul_ remained on the other side.

One of them, in the very middle of the group, directed his horse a few steps forward. Reaching out his hand, Freida whimpered and suddenly went completely limp. Arwen caught her, and held the hobbit closely to her.

“ _Give up the Halfling. To Mordor we will take them.”_ They chanted in near-unison. The elf drew her blade, rearing her horse further away from the water’s edge.

She chanted an old spell in Quenya, causing the river water to recede. The black riders advanced slowly, but stopped when they heard a thunderous sound coming from upstream.

A large wave with foaming crests like white horses crashed down the rock walls, and overtook the riverbed. Arwen watched as the riders and the steeds were washed away down the river, the rushing water overtaking their screams of demise.

“Asfaloth, gwaem.” _(Let us go.)_ The horse charged up the marble steps, though Arwen feared they were already too late. When she reached the main courtyard, she was met by her father, Gandalf, and a few of her other kinsmen. She lifted the hobbit to the side of the horse, allowed the wizard to hold her in his arms. A grave look covered his face as he carried her swiftly to a healing room, carefully removing the cloak and large tunic she wore over a simple undershirt.

Elrond joined him, followed by his daughter, as they observed the patient. Her pale skin was concerning enough for the elf-lord, but the veins around the shoulder’s wound were nearly black, as was the skin around her eyes.

“Estel said there is something in the wound, can you feel it?” she said.

Elrond nodded, “the tip of a Morgul blade is buried deep, growing closer to her heart.” He glanced up at Gandalf, who nodded, “there may be time yet to save her.”


	7. Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freida has made it to Rivendell, but fading into darkness with every second.

_It was dark. Not darkness as one would feel in a dark room or an unlit forest on a stormy night. It was an empty darkness; thin and uncertain._

_Freida felt herself floating, her head swimming. She was not in pain, but it was a feeling of nothing being there, not even her own self._

_It felt like an eternity before she saw a light. The light was painful, and heavy, but it was more inviting than the perpetual darkness. She was unsure how to reach it, either with her hands, to run to it, so she just focused on it. She focused hard, trying to will it to come closer or get brighter. But, it merely lingered there, just far enough away. She felt a heavy sadness, as if betrayed by the only thing she could hold onto in the void._

_Freida decided to try again. This time, she tried hard to reach her hand up toward it. She could finally feel it. She could feel her arm reaching toward it, but wasn’t sure if she was reaching forward, or downward, or really any direction._

 

 

Elrond had begun to slice the wound open carefully, searching for the broken piece of blade. With a set of forceps, he reached carefully into the incision, until he felt metal touch metal, and carefully pried the shard out. After doing so, he quickly began to stitch and wrap the shoulder, covering the bandages with a warm cloth.

Gandalf, on the other side, kept watch on her pulse. It was already slow and weak, but even with the removal of the blade’s tip, she only regressed further. Gandalf whispered to himself, placing a hand gently on her head, closing his eyes tightly.

Elrond looked outside, seeing his fostered son and three more hobbits enter Rivendell. They were weary, and worried, and he had hoped to bring them good news upon their arrival. He heard something move, and turned to see Freida’s right arm extended up toward the ceiling, as if she were reaching for something. The elf furrowed his brows in confusion, sitting back down beside her.

 

_The light grew harsher, she screamed from the intensity. She struggled, feeling the depths of black try to pull her away from the light. She was nearly inside of it, before she felt herself finally escape the grasp._

Freida's eyes shot open, gasping desperately for air. She lowered her hand down to her chest, gripped her heart which was pounding hard. Everything felt intense; she could hear the rushing water from outside, her head still felt light, and slowly the pain in her shoulder from the wound being re-opened ripped coarsely through her nerves. The hobbit panted heavily, her eyelids closing tightly.

“Its all right, Freida, you may rest now.” Gandalf said gingerly. With that, he felt her hand relax again, and wiped the cold sweat from her forehead. Behind him, Gandalf heard the cough of a sob from behind him; where Bilbo stood in the doorway.

“My dear Freida… I’m so sorry…”

 

.

.

.

 

A soft, warm breeze caressed her skin as she awoke in a rather large bed. She breathed in deeply before opening her eyes, unsure if the events of the last two weeks had been a dream. Freida looked up at the ceiling, observing the well-adorned carvings and paint upon it. She noticed the smell of pipeweed to her left.

“What day is it?” she asked meekly.

“It's the 24th of October.” Aragorn's voice replied, calmly. She turned to see him close the book he was reading and put his pipe down on the table beside him. “How are you feeling?”

She attempted to sit up, feeling an ache from her shoulder and head, but not the burning pain she had remembered. Trying again, she used her right arm to steady herself, sliding herself up against the headboard. “Certainly better…but…” she thought for a moment, Aragorn patiently listened for her to finish her thought. “Are we safe? What happened?”

The man relaxed into his chair a little, turning the seat slightly to face her more directly. “Here and now, yes, we are very safe, I assure you,” he replied. “Master Elrond tells me it is truly a wonder you made it here alive, let alone that you managed to walk for so many days with your injury.” His voice sounded regretful, “I am glad you have recovered so well.”

“As am I… are the others all right? Sam, Merry and Pippin? And… you are well I hope?” she asked. The ranger smiled, “what is it?”

He laughed a little, more like a sniffing sound came out. “We are quite all right; shall I get Sam for you?” he asked.

She shook her head, “not yet…” Freida laid back, she could feel the weakness; all at once wanting to get it of bed and use her legs, but also stay in the warm comfort of bed and sleep for another week. “Is… is the Ring safe?” she asked.

The ranger nodded, taking a puff on his pipe. “It sits beside you in that table there. Elrond thought it best, with some encouragement by your companions, that until the time comes to hand it over to the next bearer.”

She nodded, relieved to know they had succeeded, and that she could no longer hear the constant voices in her head. “It is done then… but… Gandalf? Is he-"

“He is fine, just down the hall in fact. I will… let him explain what kept him.”

“Then all is well, then… thank Arda.”

Footsteps were heard coming down the hall, and the door was pushed open.

“You're awake!!! Oh, Freida thank goodness!” Sam had rushed in, nearly jumping on Freida's bed and held her hands in his. “Your hands are warm again!” The hobbit was nearly crying in joy of seeing his dear friend well again.

“Hello Sam…” she said softly. He came up and hugged her gently where she lay, and she smiled in relief as she returned it. Sam retrieved food for her, and brought Merry and Pippin back with him. The three hobbits joyfully distracted her, enough so that it took her a little while to notice a familiar figure standing in the doorway. Freida could not hold back tears upon seeing her beloved uncle. He had aged considerably, but the glimmer of excitement in his eyes still shone brightly.

“Oh, Mr. Bilbo!” Sam noticed him as well, and pulled a chair up next to Freida's bed for him to sit down.

“Hello my dear child…” he said, his voice raspy but confident.

“You wonderful old fool… is this where you have been hiding all this time?” she choked out, her eyes red and filled with tears.

Bilbo nodded, “For some time… I did some traveling for a few months, but time started to catch up with me, and I made my way here.” He smiled.

The other three hobbits fetched them supper,  allowing the two to catch up. Freida told him of all of the startled folks after he disappeared, coming to call dressed in black. She had to talk them down, but admitted being concerned for him each time it happened.

She didn’t realize how tired she had gotten until Gandalf had come to tell Bilbo how late it had was getting. The elder hobbit fussed as he got up, kissing his niece before leaving the room. Elrond came into the room with a small cup with a strong, herbal aroma that filled the room.

“This will help you sleep, through I am pleased to see you have such high energy this afternoon.” He handed her the cup, and she took it hesitantly. “Is something the matter?”

She looked up, a little embarrassed to speak her thoughts. “After sleeping for so many days, it is strange to think I need to sleep again so soon.” The elf lord listened intently, and nodded. He was not so surprised by this remark, she was a Baggins, after all.

“I understand…. You may stay awake longer if you wish, until sleep is more agreeable. I bid you a good night.” He placed the cup on the table beside her, and the wizard closed the door.

“I suppose you are going to question me about my whereabouts, will you not.”

“I can not imagine you were merely late to meet us.” She replied jokingly, but also in concern.

“When I departed after seeing you and Sam on your way… I made my way to the head of my order, Saruman the White. But when I had arrived, he was no longer listening to reason.” Gandalf explained. He described being held captive after an argument, only barely escaping weeks after arriving.

He noticed Freida's concerned expression, he reached down and patted her hand softly. “You needn't fear for this old wizard. I still have a few tricks up my sleeves, even in the worst of times.” They talked about longer before bidding each other a good night.

Freida stared out into the calm valley cloaked in nightfall. The sounds were so peaceful… the water, small creatures chirping back and forth. Sometimes the breeze would catch the trees just right along the hillside and they hushed all the noise for a passing moment. She sighed, sitting herself up to sip the bitter tea completely, and placed the cup back. She found herself worn by such an insignificant action, her eyelids feeling heavy as she slid under the covers to lay back down.

 

Arwen walked quietly through the halls, checking the various areas for those who were still awake. She had lead the hobbits to their quarters, noting how awestruck and shy they still seemed when around her. She insisted that Estel finally sleep properly, as he had often watched over Freida until she awoke even after weeks of always staying alert to protect them. She found it endearing how fond he had grown of the small folk, and found herself curious and caring of Freida, as well.

She made her way to the young hobbit lady's room, silently looking upon her sleeping form. She reached for the empty cup of her father's sedative when she looked upon the hobbit's face. Now that their color had returned, her cheeks were quite rosy and youthful. The short, unruly curls haloed her face, and the elf noticed the cheeks were dewy with tears.

Arwen leaned over and heard a small sound escape the laying girl's lips, and became concerned. Nightmares were plaguing the hobbit, and Arwen realized that she could not escape them. The elf took the small hands into her own, finding that an evil darkness still lingered within the small one. Exhaling, she fought against it to allow the hobbit some peaceful rest, but it was stronger than she anticipated. In an effort to try once more, Freida's hands gripped hers before waking with a loud gasp. She had bolted upright, shaking and panting with eyes open wide. After a moment, she turned and realized who was sitting beside her, growing embarrassed.

“Forgive me for waking you… I meant only to relieve what was troubling you, _tithen min_.” Arwen said tenderly, placing a hand on the hobbit's cheek to feel if she was too warm or cold.

Freida was still in a bit of shock before finding the words to speak up.  “I….What I dreamt was not worth the sleep I know that I need.” She smiled a little, a chill running through her body as she recalled the nightmare.

“What did you see?” the elf maiden asked.

Freida retracted her hands and held them in front of her eyes, bending forward slightly. “I was alone. Its not what I could see, but feel.” Her voice cracked. “Sam, my cousins, Bilbo… all those who I hold dear, were dead  around me. And thousands more lay dead as well, scattered across a grey and desolate place. But…” a small sob escaped her, “what I felt was that it was my fault, somehow. That I was the only one to save them, and I could not.” Her chest ached as she allowed tears to spill down.

Arwen listened patiently before kneeling up on the bed and embracing the small form. She could feel the hobbit's sorrow and fear, but was intrigued by her sense of responsibility. “You have not failed anyone, and you shall not. You, alone, can not protect all peoples of this world.” Freida nodded slightly, she felt weary and her shoulder ached painfully. A light knock came at the door, and Aragorn entered carefully.

“Freida, you should be sleeping, is something the matter?” he asked. Arwen got up, delicately laying the hobbit back up against the headboard.

“I was checking on her as I walked past and saw that she was stirring.” The elf exchanged glances with her, waiting for an approving nod to tell the ranger what had occurred. Freida nodded her permission, but averted her gaze as Arwen explained her nightmares. She could hear them quietly speak in Qwenya, which she could not translate as easily as Sindarin. When they finished, Arwen took the cup at Freida's bedside, smiling warmly as she excused herself. Before leaving the room, she took Aragorn's hand in her and held it against her cheek for a moment.

The ranger looked longingly as she departed, and noticed the hobbit looking curiously at him. “You are quite fond of her, it seems?” She remarked innocently. He nodded, taking Arwen's place beside her, but his face grew serious as he sat

“Black breath… is what is afflicting you.” He said.

Freida eyes lowered, and she became concerned, “what… what is that?”

“It is… it is a feeling of hopelessness. Failure, loss, pain, darkness…” he explained. “A weapon of the enemy, but it attacks the mind instead of the body… and it is likely heightened because of your wound.”

Freida realized that he must have experienced it as well; he seemed to explain it less as a healer and more as someone who had felt it first hand. “So… what can I do? It will never go away, will it?”

The ranger was taken aback, “No, I’m afraid it won’t. But there are things that help: the company of friends, most of all.”

She hummed in acknowledgment, thinking of her kind friends and beloved kin. She drifted back asleep, feeling more comfortable facing what fears awaited her in her dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! For new readers, happy to have you! To any previous readers of my work, I'm sorry for not updating my other works. I've been in a very tough spot emotionally.
> 
> This has been a passion project that I've been working on for something like five months, so far. I wanted to have a substantial amount to post before doing so. *Most* of it I have gone back and edited thoroughly, I'll be working on on further chapters to get them polished before posting. 
> 
> Thank you all, and cheers~  
> LadyAmalthea


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